//------------------------------// // March 22: Pacific Rhythm // Story: Seven Days in Sunny June, Book I // by Shinzakura //------------------------------// “This is the captain speaking – we’ve arrived in sunny Los Angeles. The sky is currently overcast, but it’s expected to be a clear day tomorrow. On behalf of the crew, thank you for flying California Pacific, and we hope to serve you again, soon.” Letting go of the virtual vice-grip she held on the seat, Sunset released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. How do they do this? she thought frantically while trying not to panic. She’d been miles up – as high as a pony could go – when she was with Celestia, and with nothing holding her onto the princess’ back except for the alicorn’s own magic, and that had felt exhilarating; it had been the greatest four hours of her life. But this simple two-hour flight from CJV to LAX had been two hours of utter hell – strapped down in a tin can with wings, hurtling at speeds only pegasi normally moved at, with nothing to save them should the plane plummet from the sky. And this is normal for them! Sunset reminded herself, the first time in months where she was reminded that she wasn’t truly a part of the seven billion humans that called this world home; that she was, like Superman and all the aliens in fiction, a visitor on this world, though she hoped that like the character with the red cape, she could someday refer to herself as a native. “Hey, Sunny, relax, we’re back on the ground.” Sunset suddenly felt a gentle hand on hers; she turned to see Octavia in the seat next to her, looking at her with a comforting smile. “You’re done with your first flight – I told you it wasn’t going to be that bad.” “Yeah, you’re right,” Sunset lied as she thought, Let’s put you on the back of a pegasus, send you up to the troposphere and see how you like it! Even still, she knew she couldn’t be angry with Octavia; she was, after all, the reason the ex-unicorn was here in the City of Angels. Octavia, meanwhile, looked out the window at the airport terminal. “You know, Sunny, I can’t thank you enough for coming with me. I really don’t like coming to these things by myself, because I’m usually the only one around my age,” she said. “And while Twily’s usually the one who comes with me to these things, she picked a really bad time to catch the chickenpox.” “Yeah,” Sunset said, genuinely concerned for her foster sister. When they’d left several hours ago, Twilight was in utter agony from itching and a blazing fever. But while Spike had caught it before and thus was immune, once Sunset admitted that she’d never had it before, Velvet all but insisted that Sunset go in Twilight’s place, something that both Evening and Ballad were all too happy to accommodate. Plus, when Twilight had found out that flying – well, in the human manner, in any case – was something Sunset had never done before, she’d insisted on it as well. Sunset, having the week off for work – the Cakes and Pinkie closed the café for their trip to Arkansas – thought it would be nice to visit a new place in her adopted homeworld and she happily agreed. And while she was pretty sure she was immune to the chickenpox for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that she had the hornpox when she was just a filly of five, she wasn’t really willing to run that test against human pathogens, nor was she willing to explain her potential imperviousness. “Well, I’ll have to call her and see if she wants us to bring her back anything,” Sunset said. Tapping a couple of quick commands into her phone, she turned off Airplane Mode – So that’s what it’s for, she realized – and the device went into Roaming Mode for the first time. “You’d probably best wait until we get out of the airport,” Ballad said from her seat behind the teens. “It’s always hard to get a signal here, especially if you’re in Roaming.” “Don’t worry, we’ll be on the 405 soon enough,” Evening added. “…and everything here is seriously cool, Twily! I know, I know, I sound like Pinkie right now, but color me impressed!” Twilight stifled a laugh as she heard her overly-excited, almost girlish foster sister practically squee over the phone. It wasn’t something that she was used to hearing from Sunset, and she’d definitely have to tell her mother later. But then something flared up behind her back and she groaned, using every bit of her willpower to try to prevent herself from scratching at the whole-body itch that suddenly roiled through her. Fortunately – in a manner of speaking – the fever had left her too drained to do any complex movement to accomplish that. “Twily? You okay?” Sunset asked over the phone. “Yeah, but I could do without the illness,” she snapped. A second later, she apologized: “Sorry – shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” “No, it’s okay, I know it’s gotta be hell just staying in bed all week.” “Oh, no, sometimes I get to go take baths in oatmeal and then coat myself in calamine – I have new hobbies!” the bedridden teen snarked over the line. Though it wasn’t spoken, both were rather surprised at the caustic level of sarcasm Twilight had displayed. “Well, if it’s any consolation, both Tavi and I wish you were here. Anyway, is there anything you want me to get you while we’re down in SoCal?” “Maybe a doctor that knows how to make chickenpox go away magically?” “No such thing as magic, Twily.” Sunset’s voice came over the line in a dry tone; it almost sounded as though she didn’t believe what she was saying. “But Tavi, her parents and I are going to be here for the whole week, so if there’s anything that you need, just send me a text or email, okay?” “Don’t worry, I will,” Twilight promised. “Good. Now you get some sleep, and I’ll call to check on you later.” “Don’t worry; I’m not going anywhere, since I think my skin’s fused with the calamine lotion by now,” Twilight muttered. “Let Tavi know I said hi. I’ll talk to you guys later. Bye.” She sighed; being sick during spring break when everyone she knew wasn’t, was utter hell. And if that wasn’t bad enough, her friends were either on vacation, working, or staying away due to the illness, and even Spike was staying at Shining and Cadance’s apartment just to be on the safe side, leaving her completely alone in the home during work hours. She wasn’t much of a gamer outside of Disco Zoo on her phone, and she didn’t want to watch movies on her tablet or laptop. Even though she didn’t want to, her only options were to read something, or to sleep some more, neither of which was appealing to her. Plus, she’d pretty much read everything on her tablet and in hard- or paperback copy in her roo— A particular pair of books on the top right shelf of her book case caught her attention – Wait, I still haven’t read that one yet! Getting up despite her aching body, she went over and opened the case, grabbing the mimic copy of the book that Sunset had given her for Christmas; seeing as how an inspection confirmed that the book was a fake made in the mid-seventies, she had no qualms about handling it like any other book. Opening the page, she started to read the introduction: Throughout all of Italian history, no other name has been met with mystery and legend than that of Baldassare di Cavalcanti. Known forever as a thorn in the side of the authorities throughout his lifetime, even today, many things about his life are still unclear…. Sunset shut off her phone and leaned against the balcony railing of the hotel room she was sharing with Octavia as she stared at the lights of the Los Angeles skyline. It’s incredible – I’ve never seen anything like this! she thought to herself. Even Canterlot – either of them – had nothing on this place…and this wasn’t even the largest city in the nation, much less this world. Fifteen million people, according to the lecture at class – seventeenth largest city on the planet. That’s about a tenth of the population of Equestria, at least when I was living there! I wonder if Princess Twilight ever realized how much larger Earth is than Equus. “Careful,” Octavia’s voice said from behind. “Five story fall, and I’d hate to see you go splat.” The raven-haired girl joined her pseudo-cousin looking at the nighttime sky. “Sunny? I….” “You’ve already said thanks enough times for coming with you an—” “No, it’s not that.” Octavia never took her eyes off the glittering yellowish-white cascade of lights that made up the western LA skyline as she continued with, “I…I really haven’t treated you well since the whole incident back in January, and I’m sorry for that.” Her eyes looked like they’d been glittering as well, though more from a lachrymal response than anything else. “Look, Tavi, we already went through that – I couldn’t be upfront with you at the time as to what happened. I’m just glad I made it in time.” “Please, Sunny, let me finish.” She went over and embraced Sunset, admitting, “When I yelled at you for what happened, and Twily jumped to your defense, I…I felt betrayed. Twily’s more than a cousin to me; she’s practically my sister – and then there was you, this newcomer. I was acting like Spike for a little bit, and it didn’t help that you have so much more friends than I do….” “They’re your friends as well,” Sunset pointed out. “But they were yours first,” the musician replied. “Besides, that’s not the point. What I’m trying to say is that…you were looking out for me and I’ve been acting like a royal ass. I’m sorry, Sunny. I really am. I’m sorry for being stupidly jealous that you were taking away both my sister and my best friend – only friend, when all you’ve been doing is the opposite.” Sunset turned and embraced her back. “I was wondering why you’ve been so standoffish. And I thought we were doing well when you slapped Vinyl at the airport.” “No,” she sighed, “that was me just taking my frustrations out on her. Believe me: if I had whatever martial arts skills you and AJ have, I would have done much worse to her. So, forgive me?” “Nothing to forgive, and even if there was, I’d already done that when we made up after arguing the week of the whole mess.” The two stood there, holding each other on the balcony, rekindling a friendship. For Octavia, it was relief from weeks of anger, depression and guilt, while for Sunset, it was a unique experience, as the words of Twilight Sparkle – both that of the alicorn princess and Sunset’s foster sister – resonated through her once more. Finally, after a few more minutes, Octavia yawned. “Sorry, but flying just takes everything out of me, and besides, we’ve got an early day tomorrow, so I’m going to go to bed.” “It’s only eleven,” Sunset said, briefly looking at her phone. “You’re usually up later than that.” “Yeah, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Octavia told her. “Besides, you’re the one acting like a kid in a candy shop – you’ve been out here since we arrived at the hotel. Trust me, this is La-la-land. I was born here. You haven’t seen anything yet.” At those words, Sunset fought to keep a straight face: There’s more than this? Living in Canterlot – the human one – had, in comparison to the one she’d grown up in, spoiled her, but it was nothing compared to what little she’d seen so far. And there was more? “I guess Celestia really doesn’t know how different this world is from hers,” Sunset murmured aloud. “What’s that got to do with your principal?” Octavia’s voice suddenly sounded and Sunset froze. As she turned around, she saw Octavia standing there in sleepwear and a robe, asking, “You mentioned your principal, right? She’s Aunt Velvet’s friend.” Sunset shook her head. Stupid time to open your mouth, Shimmer, she scolded herself. But the cat was out of the bag, of sorts. “No, Celestia – or maybe it was Celeste, I’m not entirely sure,” she lied, “was the name of my guardian. The one I ran away from.” “Did she abuse you?” Sunset shook her head. “No, the only abuse was what I did to her. But…let’s just say I’m never going back. And I don’t want to go back. You guys are my family now, and I’d like to keep it that way.” “Well,” Octavia said, a grin on her face, “I’m not one to complain.” The following day, after a light continental breakfast, the four headed off towards the Brentwood Museum. While the rented car wound its way up Beverly Center Drive, Octavia and Ballad tried to explain the whole of what was going to occur. “So let me get this straight,” Sunset asked. “You and your mother are descendants of some famous medieval musician known as ‘La Musica’?” Octavia nodded. “Which translates into English as simply ‘music’, if I recall correctly,” she said, looking briefly at Ballad, who nodded in agreement. “Let me see if I remember this all: she appeared some time in Castile around the early sixteenth century or so. For a woman of that time, she was an incredibly accomplished musician and composer, so much so that she performed for royalty and nobility throughout Europe and eventually married a Bourbon noble. She’s written some of the most enduring and alluring works of all time and most surprising of all, she did it as a Moor.” “A what?” “A Moor,” Ballad explained, picking up where Octavia had left off. “They were the Muslim rulers of southern Spain at one time, though by the time La Musica was around, they had long since been expelled from Europe. Anyway, they were darker-skinned than those in the northern part of Spain. She was always described as having dark skin and platinum-white hair with shocks of gold and scarlet in her hair, though she often insisted that she wasn’t a Moor; she didn’t even know who they were. But the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Madrid recently came into possession of what they believe to be a picture of La Musica. The Spanish government recently signed a deal to have the Brentwood Museum display the picture, along with several instruments that she played over the years, and some other artifacts believed to have been hers.” “Which is another incredible thing – even nowadays, multi-instrumentalists are uncommon. Back then, due to training, patronage and the way things were, it was practically impossible to play more than one instrument. But for a woman to be a multi-instrumentalist and a composer, especially in that time period? You can see why she became so celebrated in her time.” “Okay, so we’re going to be seeing a picture of your ancestress, right? Anything else?” “Yup! Another thing that La Musica was known for was having a large amount of issue, so there’s going to be several descendants of her bloodline there besides me and Mom,” Octavia replied. “Strangely enough, almost all of them are musicians, so this should be interesting.” The car pulled up to the main entrance and Evening produced his special event pass. As the gate guard waved him through to continue past the public parking and up The Center Drive, until they pulled up in front of a huge group of modernist white buildings. Waiting for them was a small group and two concierges. As the car came to a stop and the four got out, a man came up to Evening, looking reedy, pale and wearing thick glasses; for some reason, he reminded Sunset of Mr. Bookbinder at the store where she’d gotten Twilight’s present. “Mr. Sonnet? Hello sir, my name is Ancient Tomes, and I am the museum director,” he began, shaking Evening’s hand. “On behalf of the staff, I would like to welcome you and your family to the Brentwood.” He then turned to Ballad. “Ah, Mrs. Ballad. An honor to make your acquaintance,” he said, shaking it as well. “Your family is one of the first to arrive, though we shall be expecting others. And these lovely two women are?” “Well, the dark-haired one is my daughter, Octavia Melody,” Ballad said, breezily, “and the flame-haired one is my niece, Sunset Shimmer.” At Ballad’s statement, Sunset tried not to blush or react otherwise; she hadn’t expected to be addressed in such a familial manner like that. She felt a quick tug on her hand, then turned to see a soft smile on Octavia’s face. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Ms. Melody, Ms. Shimmer,” the gentleman said, and both girls nodded. “Now if you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you to Exhibition Hall D, where we’re setting everything up for the Monday unveiling.” With that, the gentleman escorted them onto the grounds of the museum proper. As they walked, Octavia whispered, “Surprised?” Sunset, not trusting herself to say anything coherent, simply nodded. “Even though you haven’t spent as much time with them as they have with Twily and I – and there’s not a lot of time there, either – they like you. And I know Mom has told Aunt Velvet that she thinks that they were right to bring you into the family.” “Stop that; you’re going to make me blush!” Unfortunately, it was too late, as Sunset’s cheeks began to heat from her emotional state. Octavia merely smirked in response before both fell silent as they moved amongst the priceless artifacts of another time. Moving through the museum, Sunset had an odd feeling of déja vu as she passed by the countless treasures mounted on the wall, seated on pedestals or encased behind bullet-proof polycarbonate. If she’d been asked, she would have said that it reminded her to a degree of the pieces on display at the Equestria County Museum of Art & History. But the truth was…so much of this made her reminisce about what she’d left behind. Trips with Celestia to the Royal Museum of Equestria. The private collections within the castle. Hell, her own apartments within the castle had contained more than a few works of art that probably fetched a pretty collection of bits. And what did she trade it all for? Four years of living in a toxic stew, on rat-infested beds in an asbestos-ridden building. And the sad part was that I thought I was free, when all I was doing was tightening the own noose around my neck. And any day now Celestia will yank that noose. Will Princess Twilight protect me? Will my family? That in and of itself was a frightening thought: what if they found out what she was and disowned her? Twilight, Octavia and the others had become her family – she loved them, of that much she knew. But what if that love dissipated once they realized what she was? “Sunset?” She turned and found Evening looking at her, as she had stopped in front of a bronze statue of a pegasus rearing. The pegasus was of the kind known here, the winged horse and obviously not anything like those she knew back in Equestria. “Sorry, I…this piece fascinated me,” she told him, not entirely lying. “Something about it….” “Well, I’d hope it was that and not something else,” he said with a smile. “And I apologize if Ballad offended you by being too, um, ‘informal’ back there.” “No, I…I just didn’t expect it,” she told him. “I mean…I love Twily and the others and your brother and sister-in-law have been nothing but the best to me. They’ve been the family that I’ve needed…that I’ve wanted…and I….” She chuckled nervously, then shook her head. “It’s…it’s nothing. But thank you for your concern.” “Well, if you need to talk, Ballad and I are available,” he told her. “You’re family now, and don’t ever feel that just because you’re not in Canterlot that you’re all alone here in LA.” “Thanks,” she said, smiling and meaning it. She could almost feel the despair that had started to kick in earlier dissipating. Maybe I shouldn’t worry about what my family thinks, she considered. “You’re welcome. Now we should catch up to the girls,” Evening said, “as I really don’t want to miss this.” A few seconds later, the pair arrived in Exhibition Hall D, where a bunch of museum employees scuttled around carefully, carrying various precious cargo as they placed the items on pillars and wall mounts. In the back of the room, hidden behind a sizable curtain, was the painting, which would not be revealed until the Monday reception. As they entered, they noticed Ballad talking excitedly with a few men, and looking over a display of what looked like a violin, was Octavia and another girl. As Evening went to join his wife, Sunset went over to Octavia’s side, catching the conversation. “…and to think that she’d had nearly all her instruments made by Duiffopruggar! A Tieffenbrucker instrument is amazing enough, but one from Duiffopruggar himself!” the new girl squeed. “That, is like, totally awesome!” Sunset looked at the girl: though she seemed to have the same general fashion sense as Rarity, she was reminiscent of a younger version of Vice Principal Luna. Her waist-length hair, tied back in a long ponytail, was of three different shades of dark-blue or indigo, and her turquoise eyes seemed to twinkle with girlish delight. “So, you recognize me,” the girl said, smiling. “Well, that or you’re checking me out – no worries, I get enough of that from guys and girls.” “Huh?” was Sunset’s eloquent reply. “Don’t mind her, Sunny, she’s just teasing you,” Octavia responded. “Anyway, Midge, this is my cousin, Sunset Shimmer. Sunny, this is Midnight Moondust.” “Wait…the pop star that’s on Nickelodeon Teenclub?” “Yeah, the one and the same,” Midnight said, rolling her eyes. “Thankfully, though, I’ll be leaving the show in two years – the contract’s only until I turn eighteen, and then afterwards, my little pop star tushie’s gonna be twerkin’ on a world tour. So I take it you’re a fan?” “Not…really, but my friend Fluttershy is,” Sunset added. Though she wondered why her friend was watching a show actually made for preteens, but ultimately figured it was due to her watching it with Angel. “So, I guess you’re related to Musica Allegra as well?” Midnight nodded. “I’m descended from her first daughter, Sweet Strings.” “I think Mom and I are from her oldest child, Luthier,” Octavia added. “Oh, so you’re from the bastard child,” Midnight replied. “I wasn’t aware of that.” “Fuck you, Midge,” the raven-haired girl said testily. Midge grinned. “Temper, temper, Tavi. I’ve never known you to be so…crass.” Sunset looked at the other two. “You two know each other?” Octavia nodded, saying nothing, but it was Midnight that answered the question: “Yeah. In addition to being distant relatives, we’re also more…immediate relatives. Her mother is my father’s cousin, so that makes us…second cousins third removed or something like that. I’m not a genealogist, so I don’t really care,” Midnight replied. “Anyway, you can just call me Midge; everyone who doesn’t make a paycheck off me shaking my ass does.” “Don’t mind her, Sunny, she’s an idiot,” Octavia replied, teasing. “Anyway, as you probably already know, Midge attends the Archer School, which is a prestigious school here in LA, and she plays guitar and piano. She’s probably one of the more famous of those who are descended from La Musica. The other, of course, is Scr—” “Don’t. You. Dare,” Midnight said, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you so jealous, Midge? She’s your older si—” “Now, girls, y’know better’n t’ fight,” a light, soft voice said. Octavia suddenly grinned. “Wow, hadn’t expected to see you here, Fid.” Both Sunset and Midnight turned to see another girl approach. A near-duplicate of Octavia, she was only distinguished by her slate-blue eyes and navy-blue hair. “Girls, this is my cousin, Octavia Van Clef, though she prefers to go by Fiddlesticks. Fid, this is my cousin Sunset Shimmer, and our first cousin, once removed, Midnight Moondust,” she said, pointing out the correct familial term. “Heya, gals,” Fiddlesticks said, then turned to Octavia. “Tavi, Ma an’ Ah’re here fer th’ same thing you an’ Aunt Ballad are – t’ find out ‘bout our ayncester. B’sides, she musta bin a pretty sweet gal, since her main instr’ment was th’ fiddle.” As if to illustrate the point, she rapped her fingers against the Lexan casing holding the ancient chordophone. “Violin, Fid,” Octavia replied. Sunset, however, had followed Fiddlesticks’ hand to the aged Duiffopruggar instrument, or so the plaque specified. She’d seen the 1669 Jove Stradivarius that was on loan to the ECMAH, and to Sunset’s untrained eye, they were practically one and the same. But her eyes wandered towards the base of the instrument, where there was a sigil carved into the wood: an F-clef superimposed over a six-pointed star, which had a smaller six-pointed star behind that. Odd…that looks like a cutie mark, Sunset thought. Of course, the possibilities of that were remote; humans, after all, had no clue what a cutie mark was. “Hey, what’s that symbol on the violin?” she asked, curious. “Oh, tha’s jest L’ Musica’s personal mark, Ah guess,” Fiddlesticks answered. “People back then weren’t none too much taught how t’ read er write, y’know?” “But if Musica Allegra was a composer and musician, she’d have to know how to read and write, I’m guessing,” Sunset asked. “Maybe she didn’t bother with school? I know I wouldn’t,” Midnight groaned. “That’s because you’re an idiot, Midge,” Octavia said. Sunset was about to ask something else, when she felt a brush of a hand past hers. “Y’know, yer real cute,” Fiddlesticks told her. “Look, gals, Ah’m sorry,” Fiddlesticks told the pair a few minutes later. The four were now sitting in the museum’s café, having lunch while the adults were given the museum tour. Midnight, having seen it all plenty of times before, decided not to, and since Fiddlesticks and her mother had just arrived on the flight a few hours earlier, the four decided they could see the whole museum later, and would just spend time together. “Ah didn’t know y’ went through all that, Tavi.” “It’s…okay,” Octavia said in that tone that indicated it wasn’t okay. “Just…neither Sunset nor I want to be reminded of the whole incident I went through,” she answered. “Yeah, an’ here Ah wus hopin’ that Ah’d meet a gal that caught mah fancy,” Fiddlesticks groaned. “Jest too bad it’d happened t’ be mah cousin’s cousin. Ah’m sorry, Sunset.” “Call me Sunny,” Sunset answered, “and I’m not offended, Fiddle, just not into girls is all. Plus, with Tavi and I being so close, even if it was, I’d just….” “Yeah, Ah know. Jest broke up with mah girlfriend, an’ still hurting, Ah guess.” “Well, as much as hearing about your love lives or lack thereof is fascinating – and by that I mean completely boring – something that Sunset brought up is curious,” Midnight commented, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “That sigil that La Musica had is practically everywhere on her stuff, almost like it was a sort of second signature.” “Maybe she really liked the symbol?” Octavia inquired. “Er maybe she was messin’ with future generashuns!” Fiddlesticks drawled. “Well, I don’t know about you girls, but I think I’d like to see more about it all,” Sunset stated, her inquisitiveness rising to the fore. It really did look like a cutie mark. Maybe I’m just reading into things, but I swear I’ve seen something like that before. “Well, I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Midnight told her. “As we were walking out, one of the museum employees stated that they were going to have to close off the exhibition hall if they were going to have it done in time for Monday’s reception.” “Sunny, relax, okay?” Octavia said to her as they shopped for clothing for the reception the next day. “Fiddle’s apologized enough, and if you want to know what real sexual abuse is like, I can reintroduce you to that friend of yours.” “Huh?” A second later, she realized that Octavia had been staring at her worriedly. “No, Tavi, it’s not that; plus, Vinyl was no friend of mine, Kicky was – and not in that way, thankyouverymuch. I was just thinking.” “Oh, really.” “Yes, really. That symbol that La Musica used…what, exactly, is it? I swear I’ve seen it before,” Sunset lied. Actually, if anything, she wished her friends were available, because anything she wanted to say, she’d have to definitely self-censor, lest Octavia think that she’d gone nuts. It was bad enough that she’d spent a good portion of the previous night abusing her iPad while trying to find anything out regarding La Musica, but her Spanish sucked and with Google Translate giving phrases like “The Music is the composer of the long-ago time and female of the composer”, she gave up rather quickly. “Now that you mention it, it is familiar…” Octavia said for a second, before snapping her fingers in realization. “The La Musica guitar pick brand uses the symbol as their company logo. Can’t tell you anything beyond that, though, as I’m not a guitarist, but you knew that already, why?” “It’s…just one of those things that just sticks in your head and can’t let go. You remember the week of Spike’s little gaming stunt about that GIF you saw on the net that you said kept popping up in your dreams, right? Something like that.” “I see. Well, hopefully it won’t leave you humming ‘It’s peanut butter jelly time!’ ad infinitum.” …and to this day, several questions about the life of Baldassare di Cavalcanti remain unanswered: was he truly, as he claimed to have been, the student of a black unicorn who taught him magical powers beyond the ken of mortal man? Or was he a hermeticist who fell afoul of the Inquisition at the wrong time in history? Or was he a monster, responsible for the murder of his wife Crisalide della Lucca in order to use her dowry to rise to the top of the nobility in the Florentine period? Researchers, even today, are looking at this very question and will likely do so for quite some time. One thing is for sure, however: the legend of the Mad Hermeticist of Cavalcanti endures. Twilight set down the book on her nightstand, sighing and trying not to scratch an itch on the back of her right arm that had been bothering her on and off all day. So far she’d spent the time reading the book that Sunset had given her, then had a nice Skype chat with a few of her friends – Fluttershy, in particular, was worried about her, which made Twilight feel special – then did some gaming on her tablet before turning back to the book and finishing it. Now, as she looked at the clock and how late it was, she lay back in her bed, wondering if she should go to sleep; it probably made sense, but she’d be doing more than enough of that this week and though she was tired quite a bit, sleeping all the time really never sat well with her, especially since Rainbow considered that one of her favorite hobbies outside of sports. And at this late at night, likely none of her friends would be online with the possible exception of Rarity, but Twilight didn’t feel like installing Steam on her tablet or laptop. I guess sleep it is, then, she groaned as she reached over to turn off the lamp, ignoring the sudden severe itching that had migrated down to her legs. As she turned off the bedside lamp and leaned back, she thought about the book she’d read and all that. Magic…it was understandable back then why people believed in it; they needed something to explain how the world worked in a time where science was only known to a handful of people and not exactly accessible to the average person. But nowadays, in the age of the computer, DNA and spaceflight, magic made no sense. Sure, there was “magic”, as in prestidigitation – Sunset had a talent for it, though she’d never revealed where she’d learned her stagecraft – but actual thaumaturgy, sorcery, wizardry and all the –aries, –mancies and whatnot? No place for it in the modern world. For a second, she tried to imagine herself as a powerful sorceress, with all the world’s magic at her fingertips. Yeah, right, she chuckled. I’m lousy at D&D – no way I’d ever be able to be a magician. After a few minutes, her eyes fluttered briefly and then closed. Soon after, her eyes began to twitch with the namesake rapid eye movement as her mind entered the dreamscape. Sunset suddenly sat up. Twily? As her eyes adjusted to the dark – it’d be easier to see if I had pony eyes, she thought to herself – she looked out the large glass doors towards the balcony and the early morning starscape of Los Angeles. All things considered, she was somewhat of a deep sleeper, and while she didn’t have Rainbow’s propensity to doze on a regular basis, she wasn’t exactly easy to wake up, either, and now she awake, at 3:34 in the morning, so said the clock. She looked at her phone, thinking about suddenly calling Twilight, just to see how…. Sunny, you’re starting to act like Shiny, she chided herself. Let him be the overprotective sibling. You might be older than him in reality, but he’s got more practice. Besides, she had to admit to herself, the fact alone that she was worried about Twilight was a sizable indicator that she cared about her foster sister as more than just a foster sister. I really wonder if Mr. Light and Mrs. Velvet would adopt me, she thought. “Sunny?” Octavia’s voice said beside her blearily. Sure enough, though the room came with two beds, the girls slept together as was normal for Octavia…and becoming so for Sunset. “You okay?” I wonder if that’s normal for siblings, the flame-haired girl thought idly about the sleeping arrangements; she immediately dismissed it as just another oddity in her life. “Just…can’t sleep,” she replied. “A lot of thoughts on my mind. Thinking about Twily and the parentals back home and….” Octavia mumbled. “Just go back to sleep, okay?” There was silence for a few seconds, before the raven-haired girl groaned and turned over to look at her pseudo-cousin. “Aren’t you the one who usually sleeps like a brick?” “Yeah, but….” A wistful smile came onto Sunset’s face. “You’re going to laugh.” “Probably.” “Gee, thanks. Anyway, I think…I think I’m homesick. It’s nothing I’ve really ever felt before.” Especially that I can’t ever feel that for Equestria, since I have a death sentence and all, so it’s an entirely new feeling for me. “I know, it’s stupid, but—” Octavia sat up. “No, Sunny, it’s not. It means that you’ve really accepted us as your family. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, and I wish I could have been there back when you and Twily had that talk in the backyard, but….” She grinned. “You and I are cousins, sisters, whatever, Sunny. We’re family. Uncle Night and Aunt Velvet love you, so do Twily, Shiny and Cady – heck, I think even Spike would admit it. And I know my parents have told you just to call them ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ as well, right?” She patted Sunset on the shoulder. “You have a family now – you’ve had a family since the day you came into our lives, and it’s finally sunk in, hasn’t it.” Sunset nodded. “Sometimes…sometimes I think I should be calling your aunt and uncle ‘Mom and Dad’; apparently I’ve had a few slips of the tongue in the past few weeks.” “I know. Twily and I talked about it. Honestly, why don’t you?” “Not sure they’d appreciate that. Besides, I think there’s something against it in the fostering rules or something like that.” “Trust me, they wouldn’t mind – they’d probably prefer it, truth be told. But if there are rules about that, that sucks, but it’s understandable. Even still, no matter what, you’re family.” An impish grin came onto the face of the musician as she teased, “I don’t just sleep with anyone, you know.” “That sounds so wrong, Tavi.” “I know – that’s what makes it so fun. Besides…I know I have to get over what Vinyl did to me. And maybe making jokes about it is a crutch, but at least I know I can do that safely around you, right?” Sunset embraced Octavia. “Yeah, that you can. So I guess we should just fall asleep in each other’s arms now?” “Not on the first date.” Sunset just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, just keep being a bitch, Tavi. At least you can be my bitch.” “When did this turn into a prison dialogue?” “The moment you started making stupid statements.” “Fine.” Octavia mock-huffed, broke from the embrace and lay back down, facing the far side of the room. “Night, Sunny.” “Yeah, night,” Sunset said, as she decided to try slipping back into the dreamscape. The majority of the next day was spent getting ready for that night’s events. Very fortunately for Ballad and Octavia, Chanson and Octavia Philharmonica were unable to make the unveiling, as the former had a performance in Paris and the latter had opted to join her mother. Besides, for Ballad, putting up with her sister Rondeau was going to be enough of a mess; thankfully Octavia and Fiddlesticks got along or who knew if the museum would be knocked off its mountainside perch if all-out war began. But with that in mind, there were still plenty of things to be done: Ballad, Sunset, and Octavia were joined by Rondeau (who called an unspoken truce with her sister for the duration) and Fiddlesticks as the five ladies got their hair done in preparation for the event. That left Evening to run around West Los Angeles in a frantic attempt to find a place that sold a tuxedo shirt in his size, as he’d had the worst luck and the one he’d brought with him turned out to have a previously-unnoticed stain on the front. But finally as the sun set on the City of Angels and dozens of dignitaries and members of the well-heeled southern California elite arrived at the Brentwood, the group began to gather in Exhibition Hall D, looking at the various instruments and documents that had been found throughout the centuries regarding the mysterious muse known as La Musica. Sure enough, many of them had that cutie mark-like symbol on them, and many people thought it was a family crest, or a short-hand signature or a personal stamp, just as some Islamic cultures of the time had. But none of those answers made sense, and the thought that it was, as bizarre as it seemed, a cutie mark, continued to stick in Sunset’s head. “Sunny, don’t frown,” Octavia chided, “or else you’ll ruin your makeup.” Not performing today, the teen had opted to wear a long, strapless scarlet gown, with matching heels and long gloves. It was slightly more risqué than Octavia would usually wear, but it was what passed for normal in Tinseltown, so she dealt with it. “Sorry, cuz, just thinking.” Unlike Octavia, Sunset had settled on a variation of the little black dress, this one coming with a sheer top and sleeves, topped off with a black choker. The legspace was somewhat restrictive, but if Octavia was going to be dressed up tonight, far be it for Sunset to be outdone. “Well, color me impressed,” Fiddlesticks replied. Her dress was conservative, a pale yellow, off-the-shoulder number that hugged her body frame well. For a second, it made Sunset wonder what Fiddlesticks would look like as a pony with a blue mane and a yellow coat, but she mentally laughed it off; Fiddlestick’s counterpart probably looked like whatever theoretical counterpart Octavia had. “Looks like everyone done came t’ th’ shindig.” “And speaking of which,” Octavia said with a grin, “here she comes to make a scene.” Walking down the hall, with several sets of eyes on her, was Midnight Moondust. Wearing a stone-gray and midnight-blue gown, both the front and the back of her dress had plunging lines, so much so that it looked more as though the fabric was holding onto the pop star for dear life rather than being a garment. It was scandalous to wear, especially for a sixteen-year-old, but that was normal for people in Midnight’s profession, and if she was laying the groundwork for her eventual career in adulthood, the better to move away from the cute girl-next-door bit now. “Heya, Midge,” Sunset teased as the girl arrived. “When do you plan to get dressed for this event?” “Cute, Sunny,” the pop star replied. “Thought I’d sneak in because I didn’t want to deal with the paparazzi, to be honest. I’ll let my parents handle that stuff. And between you and me, I really don’t like wearing this – too drafty – but I have to start putting on the ‘bad girl’ image for the press if I’m going to be taken seriously in a couple of years.” “So, at whut point’ll ya be doin’ th’ hooch an’ th’ blow?” Fiddlesticks teased. Midnight facepalmed at that point and both Sunset and Octavia giggled. “So, I wonder what the big thing they’re going to reveal is,” Octavia mused, looking around at the various instruments, documents and other relics of a woman that lived centuries ago. “Well, isn’t there the picture?” Midnight asked. “I haven’t seen anything like that.” “You’re right; I’d forgotten about that,” Octavia admitted. “I’m guessing that’s what they have ensconced behind the curtains over there.” After a few more minutes of chatting, a soft chime came from the front of the hall, and everyone turned to face the museum director standing there, alongside what appeared to be several members of the Spanish government and apparently some other people as well. “Distinguished guests,” Ancient Tomes spoke, his voice clear despite its reedy timbre earlier – Maybe public speaking is more his style, Sunset mused – “On behalf of the staff and patrons of the Brentwood Museum, the Kingdom of Spain and the City of Los Angeles, I’d like to thank you all for coming to this special function tonight for the opening of the Brentwood’s latest exhibition, ‘La Musica Leyenda: The Life and History of Musica Allegra’. We would especially like to welcome those of her descendants, the sons and daughters of Luthier, Sweet Strings, Toccato, Symphonic Belle, and Minor Key – most of which are musicians and composers in their own rights. “As you can see, there have been many things about Musica Allegra, known by her sobriquet of ‘La Musica’: her instruments, which she used to delight and enthrall the crowned heads of state of many a European nation. Her texts, poetry and compositions, many of which are still famous even today – amongst them, Symphony No. 17 in D Major, the ‘Unicorn’s Gavotte’; String Quartet No. 5 in E-flat Major, the ‘Ballet of Pegasi’; the Cassation in D Major, ‘Recollective of the Shining Citadel of Yore’ and so many more. And despite all this, she was a wife and mother; a woman who spoke fluent English and Spanish, yet claimed to be from neither place and whose origins and nationality have been lost to time. “But, when the Spanish Royal Academy of Fine Arts came into possession of what is believed to be a picture of La Musica, painted by none other than the legendary Lucientes himself, we at the Brentwood knew it was our honor and privilege to have this picture displayed at this exhibition of the life and works of La Musica. This is the first time since its discovery that it has been revealed to the public and now, it is my honor to show you the only known image of Musica Allegra herself!” Driven by mechanical casters, the burgundy curtains parted, and an image of beauty, derived from oil laid onto canvas centuries ago, appeared behind a climate-controlled polycarbonate cover. The woman, dressed in a somewhat plain burgundy gown, rested two hands upon a violin seated in her lap. The woman looked serenely at the audience, her soft blue eyes standing out like glorious gems of lapis against the earthy, deep mahogany tone of her skin. Her head was framed by a cascade of long, platinum-white hair, save for two shocks of scarlet and gold, as if she meant herself to be the precursor of the Spanish flag. The expression on her face was calm and placid, regal, ethereal. But as Sunset gazed at the picture, a word that was likely not in the human lexicon immediately came to mind: monocereal. She fought to keep the look of shock on her face as she realized what she swore she was seeing before her: a human woman who had once been a pony. She had to be: although human, the way she held her hands was that of the way noblemares traditionally placed their forehooves when posing for portraits. Furthermore, her hairstyle, long and flowing, wasn’t in sync with the buns, bonnets and other hairstyles of women of the same era as La Musica was from. But ponies did, as did their modern-day counterparts – emphasis on “modern day”: Sunset's foster sister had the same hairstyle, more or less, as the alicorn princess did. As did Principal Celestia and Princess Celestia, and likely her own counterpart, still somewhere else on this world. Or, Sunset chided herself, maybe she had that style because she had a pony counterpart in Equestria? But even that didn’t quite make sense: if so, then why all the cutie mark-like symbols? Was that normal for that place in time? Or was it that of a woman who was once a mare, endlessly remembering the symbol that she’d had on her flank, now gone forever but ever etched in her mind. Sunset’s eyes briefly drifted to her own hips, where her cutie mark had been. With the exception of the brief time she’d returned to Equestria to steal Princess Twilight’s crown, she hadn’t seen it in four years. She’d been so proud when she got her mark, an eclipsed sun – or what they’d call a yin-yang here on Earth – flaming with a prominent corona. When she’d arrived here and become human, she freaked out about its loss so much, for a while she’d drawn it everywhere she could, and at one point, even got a purple t-shirt with the mark printed on it; that shirt had been lost when the warehouse fell. But, if she’d spent years obsessing over its loss…wouldn’t another pony? She looked around the room, and all the descendants of La Musica, identified by the white rose corsages or boutonnieres they wore. Dozens of them in the room…including Ballad and Octavia. And these were just the ones who could attend. Tens of thousands of people, over generations, all potentially with the heritage of ponydom within their blood. “Excuse me,” she said to her company. “Gotta go use the powder room.” She had no idea what that meant, as it was something she’d heard in a movie she and Twilight had watched, but it sounded like a good enough excuse. With that, she departed the room, walking out and towards the information desk in the lobby of the museum. “Good evening, miss,” the woman at the desk said, cheerful and perky as always – she’d noticed that much about the staffers prior. “What can I help you with?” “I need to do some research on La Musica for my family,” she said glibly. “My aunt and cousin are descendants and I think that it would be a great thing to do some…um….” Suddenly the right word wasn’t coming. “Genealogy?” “That’d be the one, thanks,” she said with a smile. “Well, it’s closed for the evening, but the Brentwood does have a research institute here, and as the exhibition will be ongoing for the next few months, the Spanish government has asked the staff of the BMRI to research as much as they can about La Musica’s life. We have nearly all the documents that were sent over from Madrid, and they’ll be available to researchers tomorrow. But I’m afraid they won’t just let anyone look at them, miss.” “But I—” Sunset began. “Hey, let the girl do it, ‘kay? Clearly she’s doing this for her family, and I think that’s totally cool,” a voice announced from behind Sunset. The woman at the desk suddenly looked as though she’d seen a ghost. “I…uh….” “For that matter, can you check to see if I’m still on the list for tomorrow? If so, go ahead and add her, okay? That’d be really awesome if you could. Thanks.” Sunset turned around to thank her sudden benefactor. “Thanks, uh….” The moment she realized who she was about to thank, her jaw dropped.